


Bound

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ghost Stiles Stilinski, Heartache, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Scott-Centric, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has died and Scott would do anything to bring him back. Written for a prompt request based on <a href="http://obrozey.tumblr.com/post/105990530386/scott-stiles-ghost-au-aka-ghost-boyfriends-for">This Gifset</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

The worst part wasn’t the moment Scott could feel his heart stop, the soft little flutter right before silence filled Stiles’s chest and his life bled away. The worst were the seconds before when he looked up with terrified amber brown eyes that  _knew_  and silently asked Scott to save him when it was already too late. It was when Stiles needed him most and knew Scott had failed him in the end. The wolf cradled his best friend in his arms, ripped hollow and sobbing as he lost the one person he never thought he’d have to live without.

How many times could a boy lose the one he loved in his arms before it broke him?

Scott didn’t remember the trip back home or the way Derek helped him up the stairs. He barely registered when his mom threw her arms around him, ignoring the blood, Stiles’s blood soaked into his shirt. The world had become strange and disconnected and without his anchor, Scott was content to let himself just drift away. It wasn’t fair that the world kept moving, it didn’t have any right. It was impossible that there were people who didn’t grieve, Stiles deserved so much more than this. Scott wrapped himself in sheets that still smelled like his best friend’s skin and wished that it had been him instead.

The boy wasn’t sure how many days he stayed locked in his room, the curtains drawn tight so the sun couldn’t intrude. He’d doze, starting awake and so sure for a moment that he heard familiar hands knocking on his window and demanding to be let inside, holding his breath as he waited for Stiles’s voice to come through the glass with fond insults about locking him out. His mother broke up the days, trying to coax him to eat with worried eyes, but he could feel the sadness she carried. Stiles had been like a son and she’d lost one of her own, the thought breaking through Scott’s numbness as he buried his face into his pillows and cried.

“Scott?”

He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to drown out the voices in his head.

“Scott! Can you hear me?”

Cracking one eye open, Scott sat up in bed and looked around. That was too clear, he wasn’t just imagining things. Nothing seemed out of place, the room quiet except for the quiet shush of white noise from his broken tv that had turned itself on again. He switched it off with a frown, not noticing the screaming shadows that banged against the screen.

___

“Is it possible he’s alive?”

Deaton shook his head, sorting through his supplies with a distracted air. “He’s human, Scott. I know you miss him, but he’s gone.”

“I heard him, that has to mean something, right? Peter was dead and he came back! Kate too. And Jackson. Stuff like this happens in Beacon Hills, what if something’s wrong and he’s trapped somewhere? Deaton, what if we can bring him back?”

The veterinarian sighed and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was clear his loss was significant and he’d do anything to deny what had happened. “Stiles was human, they weren’t. It’s not possible for him. I’m so sorry, Scott. What you heard was just your mind playing tricks on you because you miss him.”

“It’s not, I swear. If he’s in trouble and we just ignore this, what happens to him then?” Scott pulled away, yanking on his motorcycle helmet. “If you won’t help me, maybe Derek knows something. Or even Peter. If he came back, maybe he knows a way for Stiles to come back too.”

“Scott, wait. Scott!” Deaton called after him, but the boy was already gone.

As much as he distrusted Peter, he was the only one he knew who’d managed to claw himself back from the grave with so much success. If there was some kind of ritual or a talisman that could make it happen, he’d find it. Maybe he needed to sacrifice something. If he could exchange himself and bring Stiles back, then he’d make the deal without hesitation.

Scott wove through traffic, pushing his sputtering motorbike to its limits. Derek had to have an answer, he was the one who helped bring Peter back even if it wasn’t by choice, and he knew his uncle better than anyone. Before Scott made a deal with the Devil, it was good to check with those he trusted. He zipped between two cars, misjudging the distance and wobbling as he fought to keep his balance. The bike pulled right, sending Scott tumbling off the road and into a ditch, helmet flying off. His head struck the ground hard and everything went black.

“Open your eyes, Scotty. C’mon, bro! You’ve got to be okay.”

“Stiles?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth as Scott slowly opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the face that swam in and out of his sight. The smile was automatic and he felt a fleeting sense of being whole that he hadn’t felt since…memories crashed back and the wolf sat up with a gasped shout. “Stiles!” It was a mistake and his head throbbed, blood running down from a deep cut along his forehead. He pressed his fingers to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Stiles, please. If you’re here, say something. Tell me I’m not going crazy.” There was no sound but the rush of cars passing along the road above him. “I won’t let you down again, I promise. I’m going to find you and bring you back, I won’t let you go. Just hang on and trust me.” The ache in his head set his teeth on edge and Scott rolled to his side to be sick.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, fumbling with the screen as he managed to send a message.

[Text] Derek i need help, bike wrecked

[Text] can i get a ride?

Scott lay flat on the ground with a groan and squeezed his eyes shut.  _Don’t give up, Stiles. I’m not going to fail you this time._

___

“What the hell were you thinking, Scott?” Derek scolded as he handed a bag of frozen peas to the young alpha curled up on his couch. “Your healing isn’t going to save you if you’re reckless.”

“I’m sorry.” Scott hissed in pain as he held the bag to his head. “It was an accident, but that’s not what’s important.”

“Of course it’s important.” The Hale sighed and sat in the chair across from him, leaning forward with a worried frown. “I know that it’s hard losing Stiles, but you can’t put yourself at risk too. You’re the alpha, you mean too much to your pack and everyone else in this town.”

“Derek, that’s not what I mean. Stiles isn’t gone!”

That caused the older wolf to pause, frown deepening. “Scott,” He said gently. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you, but he’s gone. Have you been sleeping? Or maybe you should eat something.”

“I’m not dreaming, I’m not sick and I’m not crazy! I’ve seen him, I can hear him sometimes, Derek. What if he’s not really gone, just stuck somewhere like Peter was and there’s a way I can bring him back? I let him go once, I can’t do it again. If he needs me, I have to help him.”

“It’s different. I’m not sure what Peter did, but he’s a werewolf and Stiles was just a human.”

Scott bristled at the words. “There was nothing ‘just’ about Stiles being human!”

“That wasn’t what I meant. Peter found a way to anchor himself here by biting Lydia. I’m not sure exactly how he managed, but he planned it all from the beginning as a backup plan. Stiles couldn’t have done that. Scott, I’m sorry. Sometimes grieving makes you believe things that aren’t always true.”

“It’s not just because I’m sad! When I fell off my bike, I saw him for a second. He was leaning over to make sure I was okay, I swear he was.”

“And this was before or after you hit your head?”

Scott faltered for a moment, trying to cling to his belief in the face of Derek’s calm rationality. “It was after, but…it was real. I-it had to be. I’m not making this up.”

“I don’t think you are. Sometimes you want to believe something so badly that you mind makes you think it’s true.” Derek moved to sit next to the boy on the couch, pulling Scott into his arms as the young alpha broken down in tears.

It was hours before he was able to make it home. Derek had been surprisingly gentle, recognizing that the young alpha had lost too much this past year and needed someone to lean on. Scott was grateful for the other wolf’s presence, solid and silent, until he was ready to stand again. He knew Derek and Deaton were right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. His body had always been attuned to Stiles, they moved in sync without conscience thought and all it took was a single look to communicate an entire conversation. It wasn’t just friendship, it was friendship and so much more. It was friendship  _AND_   things he didn’t have words for. Love, of course it was love, but it wasn’t even that. It was like they were the same person in two bodies, like they were one being split apart. Love changes, friendships drift apart, but they were a part of each other.

Cora had it right, it was like losing a limb. It was worse. He’d lost his chance to ever tell Stiles how he felt.

Scott was as restless has his friend had been, jumping at every noise and tapping his foot in anxious rhythms. Dark circles smudged under his eyes as he spent all night online doing research and trying not to be distracted by the smiling faces of images saved to his desktop of better days. The one with Allison jumping on his back caught a moment before she sent him overbalancing into Stiles and they all landed in a heap. The one with Stiles on his back, groaning about how much candy he’d eaten on Halloween. The one after the Nogitsune when Stiles looked so tired but still managed to smile as Scott watched him, protective and so obviously in love. He should have said something then. There’d been a million moments he could have told Stiles, so many chances to just lean forward as they bent over their homework or the nights they slept wrapped in each other’s arms to chase away the nightmares. He just thought they’d have forever together and there’d be time.

“I miss you so much.” He murmured, putting his head down on his desk. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Stiles.” Scott almost felt his friend’s fingers brush through his hair and jumped as his broken tv switched on again, the harsh hiss of static filling the air. “God, give me a freaking heart attack…”

“Scott!”

“Stiles?” The world held its breath as Scott listened, trying to silence the thudding pulse in his ears. The white noise cracked louder and he could  _swear_ there were shapes moving on the screen. “Holy shit. Stiles? Dude, I’m here, say something. Please, buddy. I’m here!”

Movement caught his eye and Scott jerked his head towards the mirror in his bathroom, carefully making his way closer. “Hello?” Movement flickered again and Scott swore he saw Stiles’s face staring back at him before it vanished in the glass. He spent the rest of the night talking to his mirror, listening to the steady hush from the television as he tried to convince himself he wasn’t going insane.

It was barely dawn when he knocked on Peter’s door, the older wolf mildly surprised the alpha even knew where he lived. Or maybe not that surprised, Scott was a smarter boy than people gave him credit for, of course he’d know where his potential enemies lived so he could keep an eye on them. Peter felt almost proud, such a tragic waste of power. “Even my good humor has limits, McCall. I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning.”

“It’s important.” Scott pushed passed him into the apartment as Peter sighed.

“I mean, come right in and make yourself at home. Perfectly reasonable. Now what exactly is it you want?”

“I want to know how you came back from the dead.” Scott paced and the other wolf frowned at the almost manic light in the boy’s brown eyes. “I’ve been feeling like…Stiles isn’t gone. There’s something wrong, I can  _feel_  him. I’ve heard his voice, I’ve even seen him.”

“Scott, you know as well as I do that Stilinski was a human. He can’t come back, what I did wouldn’t work for him.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it? How come  _you_  got to come back and not Stiles? Not Allison! Or Erica or Boyd or Aiden or any of the other people who deserved it more than you?” Scott was almost shouting and stopped himself abruptly, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.”

Peter waved his hand, turning his back on the alpha as he went to brew himself a cappuccino. “I understand, you’ve lost a lot. It’s hard being in charge when so many things go wrong.” He couldn’t help but twist the knife, hiding the bitterness with a sharp smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how to help you. I had a connection with Lydia that helped me cross the barrier. I had werewolf healing that kept my body alive, but just barely. I had a full moon tied to ancient rituals of rebirth and familial blood to bring me back. I survived the fire, Scott. It took me years locked inside my own body to be able to heal from all of that, I know how to live through things that should have killed me. Your friend doesn’t have the same chance.”

“I’m not giving up on him. If there’s any chance at all, I’ll find it. Moon, blood, connection, got it. I have that.”

“I’m saying there’s no chance! This is all in your head, you need to pull yourself together.”

Scott headed for the door, already formulating a plan. “No. It’s Stiles, I can tell. I just-, I know him. I know he’s here. If you won’t tell me any more, I’ll find the rest by myself.”

“Good luck. Oh, and McCall? Don’t ever come here again.” The door clicked closed.

“Hang on, buddy. I have an idea.”

Scott didn’t know anything about rituals or magic, but he studied all he could even when Deaton refused to help. He poured over Chris Argent’s books, going over any bit of information Derek could remember about the Nemeton, and made his own sacrifice to the power that pulsed through Beacon Hills. The full moon lit his way in the Preserve as he found the twisted stump that had caused them so much trouble, all that was left of a time when magic ran freely through town. He pulled a razor blade from his pocket that he’d stolen from his mother’s junk drawer, slicing open the palm of his hand and let the deep red drops of blood well from the skin to splatter against the oak’s dull wood.

_Bring him back. Please, bring him back to me._

He revved the engine on his motorbike, loud in the stillness of the woods, and raced to the hospital to see if there’d been any chance his sacrifice had been accepted.

Stiles’s body was still held in the morgue even a week after his death. The claw marks were determined not to be human, but there was still a question about whether it was an animal attack or the boy had died under more mysterious circumstances and his body still hadn’t been released back to his father. It would have made him angry if he wasn’t so hopeful that this could all be reversed and Stiles might just hop right off the cold steel slab and Scott would…he’d…

_Please bring him back._

The lights were off in the morgue, but a handful of keys swiped from his mother’s dresser and a familiarity from years of getting in trouble in these hallways made it easy to break in. It wasn’t the first time, there’d been so much death. The room was the worst place a wolf could be and as he found the drawer with  _Stilinski_  typed on a small card, he hesitated before pulling the cooler door open and sliding the slab free.

Scott took a step back, covering his nose. It smelled too much like Stiles, buried under old blood and parts of a human no one was meant to see and washed clean with nauseating chemicals, but underneath there was just enough of  _home_  to make him choke.  He couldn’t lift the sheet, he didn’t want to see his best friend empty and stitched back together by people who didn’t know him and couldn’t care about what he’d meant to everyone left behind.

“This is all kinds of morbid, Scotty. You couldn’t find anything better to do on a Saturday besides hang out with dead people?”

The wolf tensed, turning slowly and gaping at the grinning boy that flickered into existence beside him. “Oh my god…oh my god, it worked! Stiles!” He threw his arms around his friend, stumbling as he passed through him. “Whoa. Okay, maybe that doesn’t work so well, but you’re here! I missed you so much, I knew I wasn’t going crazy. I’ll find a way to bring you all the way back and we’re going to be okay again.”

“Slow down, dude.” Stiles put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, or tried without his fingers passing through the other boy’s body.

“How can I slow down when you’re  _here_? Stiles, I…” Scott’s excitement fractured and tears caught in his lashes. “I was so scared you were gone forever.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, just leaned over the table where his own body lay and frowned. People weren’t supposed to see themselves like this, but who knew the rules of ghostdom. None of this came with a rule book.  “You know I can’t stay. I’m gone, Scott. I’m dead.”

“No!” The world burst from the boy with a snarl, eyes flashing red for a moment. “You know we can find a way to bring you back. We’re part of the way there already, the ritual worked and if I can bring you back this much, then we’ll find a way to make it real. You know we can do this, I’m not giving up. Maybe Lydia could help, she might be able to hear you and I’ll find a way to make you solid.”

“Scott,  _stop_. Stop. I’m stuck here, I can’t stay forever.” Stiles held his hands out to his friend as Scott crumbled into himself. “I can’t move on while you’re holding on so tight.”

The wolf sat heavily on chair, cradling his head in his hands. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

“You have to let me go, Scott.” Stiles said quietly, kneeling down on the floor so he could look up into Scott’s face. “I can’t do it myself. I’m tied, tangled in this and I can’t move on. I need you to let me go.”

Scott fell apart, his entire body shaking as he sobbed. “You can’t leave me! Please, Stiles, I just got you back. I don’t know how to do this alone. I can’t…I can’t.”

The spirit shifted to sit beside his friend, wrapping insubstantial arms around Scott and wishing that he could break through for just a moment to hold him for real. “You can. Scott, you’ve grown into someone amazing. You’re strong, you’re a leader, you’ve faced down worse than this.”

“Nothing is worse than this! Stiles, I can’t breathe without you. It was you and me, you promised it would be you and me forever. I don’t even know who I am without you. I love you, please don’t leave me alone!”

There was nothing he could do but let his best friend cry, great pained sobs as he lost everything. Finally he quieted, breath coming in shaky stutters and shoulders slumped like the whatever had kept him upright had finally collapsed under the weight he carried. “It’s not fair to keep you trapped here.” He said dully, praying that everything could go numb so it would stop hurting. “I won’t let you suffer because I’m selfish.”

“Scott.” Stiles drew his eyes up, cupping Scott’s face and leaning forward to brush his lips against his best friend. “You’re never selfish, even when you need to be. You have to learn it’s okay to want things and sometimes it’s even okay to take them. You have to care about yourself when I’m gone.”

“Am I going to see you again?”

“I don’t know.” The spirit said mournfully. “But I love you.”

“I love you too.” Scott managed a wan smile that broke Stiles’s heart. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too. I’m always gonna believe in you, Scott.” The ghost faded, the shape melting away into nothingness until Scott was alone again.

Except…he wasn’t.

Stiles watched his best friend shatter alone and knew there was nothing he could do to help find all the broken pieces. Soulmates, who knew that was even a real thing? Two halves of one whole, bound together until they could be reunited. There wasn’t a way to slip the bond that tied him to Scott, chained to his best friend’s life and never allowed to be a part of it. His lie had given Scott the chance to move on, all Stiles could do was watch.

He watched his best friend finally learn how to stand again, the quiet and resolute protector of his pack. He pounded at the barrier between their worlds and screamed when Scott threw himself recklessly into danger, so bent on sacrificing himself when there was no one who could pull him back. Stiles smoothed hands through the wolf’s hair as his friend sobbed and railed at the fact that there was no one left to take care of Scott when he gave too much of himself to others. Stiles watched Scott laugh again, though it never seemed as true as it used to be. He was proud when the wolf found a way to love and trust again, it was impossible for anyone not to fall in love with Scott McCall though he knew Scott was never able to give his whole heart because  _he_  held it in ghostly hands. It hurt, but Stiles was always selfish and part of him loved knowing that, except when Scott smiled. It was a shadow of how bright it used to be, and Stiles would wonder if he should have stayed, if he could have made things better or if he’d have taught Scott to resent him by not really being there.

Scott’s was a life with a missing piece. He lived with few regrets, but the boy with the wicked smile and the gentle hands was never far from his thoughts. It was a wound that didn’t heal and though the pain faded with time, Scott always knew he was only half of what he was meant to be.

Even when Scott thought he was alone, Stiles stood at his side through all the years as the lines in the alpha’s face grew deeper and gray crept into his hair. Decades upon decades of love and joy and loss and heartache. A werewolf’s life was longer than a human’s and one by one, they all passed on until Scott kept going alone with the flickering shade at his side. It wasn’t until he was old and so tired of fighting that he felt it.

No one heard Stiles screaming for help, trying to put Scott back together when he finally lost the battle. Stiles didn’t really exist, he wasn’t really there, but he could still imagine what the blood smelled like and how cold Scott must have been as it bled out of him at the end. He never stopped screaming, even when he couldn’t feel Scott, hunched over the wolf’s corpse and crying so hard he barely heard the strangled call of “Stiles?”

Scott smiled as a cool, long-fingered hand slipped into his. Even after so many years, the touch was achingly familiar and the decades fell away as Stiles pulled the boy he used to know into his arms and wiped the tears from his face.

“I knew it was you.”

“Who else was it going to be, you jackass? The Tooth Fairy?”

“Shut up.” Scott closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Stiles and feeling the missing piece of his soul slide back into place. They were finally whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can read my stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find me on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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